


Don't Know Why it Hurts When You Leave

by AmaranteReikaChan



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 12:31:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1226398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmaranteReikaChan/pseuds/AmaranteReikaChan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How many innocent people would still be alive if you carried a gun with you?” </p>
<p>Her words pierced like the machete in her hand, straight into the cavity between his hearts. He stumbled back as though the blow had been tangible. </p>
<p>It was a long time since he had known someone who could cut him down as effortlessly as she could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Know Why it Hurts When You Leave

**Author's Note:**

> For the Doctor this is between the Day of the Moon and A Good Man Goes to War. For River, it's whenever you want it to be.
> 
> Title from Easy Now My Dear by Ronan Keating.

The Doctor glared at the back of River’s form as she walked in front of him, hips swaying in an entirely unnecessary manner that he _did not_ find the least bit attractive. At all. In fact, it was repulsive.

Really.

Damn it. If he couldn’t even convince himself of his lies how was he supposed to make others believe them?

The reason he was irritated wasn’t because of her provocative movement. It was entirely a consequence of what she was wielding in either hand. In her right she held a machete, deftly hacking the fallen branches and hanging vines blocking their path. That he could put up with, considering it was the only thing that was going to get them out of this Alkatronian jungle. In her other she was clutching her beloved Alpha Meson blaster. Without point, he thought, considering they were the only ones in the entire forest. There weren’t even any wild animals on this planet for them to worry about.

“What is it now?” River’s fluid voice cut through his thoughts as she sliced the vegetation hanging in her way. She didn’t glance back to look at him. “I can feel your moodiness from here.”

The Doctor’s jaw hung open before he huffed.

Well, she had opened the door so it would be silly of him not to take the opportunity. If it aggravated her, then that was just her own fault.

“Why must you always have a gun with you?”

“You want to keep your friends safe don’t you?”

The Doctor frowned in annoyance. That was a little trait of hers he had noticed more and more lately. That she never answered one of his questions straight out, always redirected by asking _him_ a question in return.

“Of course.”

“There are people I want to protect too,” she said, still not casting a glance in his direction, her attention focussed on the task. “Guns and weapons aren’t just about death and destruction. They’re also about protecting those that you care for.”

“I know that.”

She paused, only momentarily before cutting through the next vine, but the Doctor still caught it.

“I know you do.”

“And there are plenty of other _better_ ways to keep them safe that do not involve the use of any weapon,” he growled, gesturing widely to emphasise his point. The fact that he was behind her and thus she couldn’t see any of it didn’t matter. “A little intelligence on its own does wonders. Only cowards use guns for protection.”

In a flash she had pivoted on her heel coming face to face with him. The Doctor didn’t realise until then how closely he had been following, when he only just managed to stop himself from walking straight into her and impaling himself on the machete she held in front of her chest.

Her eyes burned dangerously.

“Are you calling me a coward?”

He eyed with caution the pointy tip of the large, extremely _sharp_ knife that was alarmingly close to his sternum (never once considering he could just step back). He breathed a sigh of relief when River seemed to remember its position and relocated it to her side.

“Of course not. You also use them to shoot people and things or my hats.” He motioned to his head indignantly as he glared at the safari hat perched jauntily on hers. Because, apparently _she_ was allowed headwear while he wasn’t. “Essentially, to do anything that I hate.”

“How many innocent people would still be alive if you carried one with you?”

Her words pierced like the machete in her hand, straight into the cavity between his hearts. He stumbled back as though the blow had been tangible.

It was a long time since he had known someone who could cut him down as effortlessly as she could.

Her voice drew his attention back to her, softer with none of the bite from earlier but still steadfast. The steel in her gaze also remained. “I’m not implying that you should or that you will. I know that’s not your way. Just consider that thought the next time you want to comment on my decision to bear arms.”

She turned and walked away, leaving him stunned into silence and immobility. He exhaled, fingers trailing down his face before he tugged them through his hair and stepped after her.

“And do you want me to name someone I know who is still alive because of this?” She waved her gun in his face. “You.”

The Doctor flinched as River turned away again, eyeing the tree in front of her critically. “Not to mention your two groupies,” she added absentmindedly, testing out the strength of one of the branches above her with her hand. It would do. “Give me a leg up.”

“Groupies?” the Doctor cried, bending down and making a step for her out of his hands, “Did you just call Amy and Rory my _groupies_?”

“Fine,” River acquiesced, glancing down at him from the branch before continuing her ascent of the tree, leaping and swinging from one tree limb to another, “your one groupie and one reluctant gofer.”

He thought better of arguing again so instead displayed his annoyance with a roll of the eyes that was out of her line of vision.

“See anything?” the Doctor asked after a pause, shielding his eyes from the bright light of the planet’s three suns as he squinted up at her form. River surveyed their surroundings for a few extra moments before glancing down at him. Even from such a height he could see she was smirking.

“I’m not getting as much of an eyeful as you, that’s for sure.”

“What?”

“Stop looking up my skirt.”

“I’m not,” he responded indignantly, his face flushed. Thankfully, it appeared River was too high to notice. With a knowing chuckle she turned her attention back to determining their whereabouts.

“The TARDIS is about five hundred units south-east.”

“Well that’s not too far.”

“It’s also surrounded by two battalions of armed Empirical Goflemen.”

“Ahh. That’s not so good.”

A strangled cry caught in the back of the Doctor’s throat as River started leaping between branches down the tree, heedless of any chance she might fall. In one fluid motion she landed on the dirt in a graceful squat.

The words for a fruitless scolding over her recklessness died on his tongue as River removed her blaster from the holster on her hip, spinning it by the trigger around her fingertip. He scowled while she smirked wide.

“Still annoyed I’m carrying a gun?”

“We can get past them fine without it,” he growled, spinning on his heel and stomping off in what he thought was south-east. In less than five feet his path was marred by a cluster of vines and without River’s machete he had no way of passing through them. That didn’t stop him trying.

“So, do you like the colour?” River asked from behind him, her voice laden with amusement as he whipped out his sonic.

“Of what? Your gun? No, I hate it.” He waved the screwdriver at the vines in a threatening manner, before progressing to poking them when it had no effect.

“My undergarments of course. It’s your favourite.”

“You’re wearing shorts.”

“And you said you weren’t looking.”

He froze.

Shoot.

Slowly turning on his heel to face her, he sighed.

“You are infuriating.”

“And you’re an old pervert.” She spun her gun around her finger again, finishing by flipping it in the air and effortlessly catching it by the handle. The whole time she kept her gaze on the Doctor, watching with interest as his frown hardened into a glare.

In two strides he was crowding her space, holding her gaze, his eyes delivering a piercing reproval.

“That’s the other thing I hate. That you handle it so flippantly, like it’s a _toy_. You’re so completely blasé to the impact of that _thing_.”

“I treat it as it is, an extension of my arm.”

“Only soldiers say foolish things like that.”

“I am a soldier,” River said curtly, mulling over how easy it was to anger the Doctor this young. She concluded it must be a result of his frustration at not knowing everything. “Maybe not in the usual sense of platoons, uniforms and following orders. But I was bred, and trained to fight, a perfectly engineered weapon. That makes me a soldier.”

“A gun is not an extra limb, River,” he scoffed while mentally cataloguing that information away under ‘things about River he discovered that made absolutely no sense’.

“Maybe not to you,” she muttered, averting her attention to her blaster as she trailed a finger along the barrel. After a tense pause her eyes snapped back to meet his, determined and unyielding. “The reason you don’t carry weapons Doctor, isn’t because you loathe them or think they’re cowardly. It’s because you’re afraid of how you’ll use them. The damage you manage to inflict with the commonplace resources you find disturbs you enough.”

His stare hardened. What he had always despised the most about their acquaintance, relationship – whatever you want to call it – was how completely she knew and _understood_ him while he knew next to nothing about her.

“Who are you?”

River sighed, reaching down to pick up the machete and turning in the direction of the TARDIS, which was in fact not the direction the Doctor had previously attempted. She hacked at the vegetation barring her path with a little more vigour than before. “Don’t you ever get tired of asking that?”

“I’ll stop asking when you give me an answer.”

“Now isn’t the time.”

“Then when is?”

River was shocked to discover how close behind her his voice was. The one person that could actually manage to sneak up on her and he didn’t even have to try.

“Spoilers,” she exhaled.

“You have no idea how much I hate that word.”

“Oh the irony.”

“Irony of what?” he asked gruffly.

“Nothing.” She pivoted coming face to face with him (rather, face to chest given their heights). She caught his gaze. “If not knowing who I am is such an issue to you, why am I here? You came to me. Think about that for a second.”

“You scare me.”

River’s brows arched. Out of all the varied responses she had been expecting, that was not one of them. “I scare you? You came because I _scare you_?”                                           

“Yes, you scare the hell out of me.”

“Well then give me a prize because I didn’t think anything scared the Doctor.”

“I don’t know why I go to you. Every ounce of logic in my head is screaming at me telling me I shouldn’t want to.” River opened her mouth to respond. The Doctor hastily held his hands up to silence her, pinching his eyes shut at the crestfallen look that had emerged on her face.

“No, let me finish. I don’t know who you are, I don’t know what you’re going to be in my future. You’re dangerous, you carry guns. I should hate that. You’re in prison and I don’t even know why other than you killed someone. I don’t know who. You make absolutely no sense to me. I shouldn’t want to keep coming to you. I don’t know why River, but I still do.”

He exhaled, for the first time since he’d begun his rant. He refused to break her gaze, as intense and stifling as it was.

“I don’t think you realise how damn frightening that is.” The Doctor could have sworn he saw liquid glistening over her irises, but then she blinked and it was gone.

“Trust me sweetie, I do.” River raised her hand, trembling slightly, and touched the corner of his bowtie, needlessly smoothing it.

“You can’t tell me who you are, fine.” Without knowing what he was doing, his hands gripped her shoulders, clinging to her like a lifeline. “Just give me something, _please_.”

“You want to know why you come back to me? You’ll have to work that one out on your own, I’m sorry.”

The Doctor found he couldn’t bear the sadness painted all over her facial features. He lifted one hand to her cheek, the other still clutching her shoulder, and lightly brushed the back of his fingers against her jaw.

“Don’t apologise,” he mumbled, tugging her shoulder to bring her into an embrace.

As he pulled her near River dropped the machete in her hand, leaving it to pierce the ground beside her, and slipped her hand over his chest to form a barrier between them. Her other arm wound around his back – her gun, still clutched in her hand, pressed against his jacket.

The Doctor found it curious that with all her indelicate insinuations about their relationship she never welcomed physical contact even as simple as a hug. From what he knew, hugs were just _hugs._ Most of the times he had tried she skilfully dodged him, on rare occasion she had capitulated, but her hand always formed a wall over his hearts, separating them. Surely it meant something, but for the life of him he couldn’t work out what.

After a few short moments River pushed him away.

Watching her sorrowed eyes the Doctor made a rash and bold decision, somewhat startled by his ability to think it.

He had realised after their trip to America when he dropped her off at Stormcage what was expected of him – _goodbye kisses_ , apparently. Ever since then he made sure to live up to his task.

He never considered he could – or _should_ – kiss her at any other time. Until now.

Hands cradling her face, he tilted his head down to press his lips gently to hers, swift and chaste. River didn’t push him away but she didn’t make any move to progress the kiss either, letting him take the ropes he realised.

“That’s a start,” she murmured as he pulled back. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I can’t tell you why you come to me, but I can tell you why I say yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s you asking.”

His eyes pinched shut and expression was pained as he gently pressed his forehead to hers. He opened his eyes to find her watching him. “River, do you love me?”

She smiled ruefully. “What do you think?”

“Do you answer everybody’s questions with a question or is it just mine?”

“Anyone who asks questions I can’t answer.”

“Why can’t you answer that?”

“Do I really need to?”

“Again,” he pointed out, waggling a finger in her direction. But she was right. He already knew the answer without her needing to voice it.

“Old habits die hard, my love.” She shrugged, an attempt at nonchalance, but her sly smile gave away her amusement.

He studied her features for a long moment before heaving a sigh. “I hurt you more than you deserve.”

“Inconceivable.” Her smile morphed into a grin.

“What do I do to make you stay? Nothing I think of seems like it could ever be enough.”

“You’ll work it out.” River stooped to retrieve the machete, bestowing him with a knowing look.

“Let’s go catch a play or something.” The Doctor held out his right arm to her, palm up. River smiled, returned her blaster to its holster and slipped her hand into his.

“Okay.”

The Doctor’s brows arched momentarily as he gazed down at their intertwined hands. That was all it took to get her to put the gun away? Inviting her to _hold his hand_. He should have tried it earlier and saved them a great deal of bickering.

At the very least, the information could be quite useful later.

As he stared at their hands he pondered, and realised a few things. He held everybody’s hand, while they were running for their lives. Hers included. But they had nowhere to run today, not at that very moment anyway. When they reached the clearing where the TARDIS was and met with the Empirical Goflemen it would likely be a different story.

He realised he never held anybody’s hand when there was quiet, when they were stationary (all brief reassuring hand squeezes and taking of hands to kiss the back of them in greeting, not included). Never anything as casual as this. And never for no other reason than he _could_.

It seemed so simple, domestic.

_Human._

The whole notion didn’t fill him with as much disgust as he thought it would. He had a feeling he’d be doing this with her again and again as time went on. Because her hands were soft and gentle in a way he never would have pictured River Song’s to be, and it somehow just _fit_. He could easily hold her hand every time he saw her (though maybe not when the Ponds are around – Amelia would tease him incessantly. Too embarrassing). While he knew that thought should disturb him it only left him feeling giddy – and just a tad terrified too.

And if it meant she wasn’t carrying her gun in her hand at all times, then that was just an added benefit.

When he looked back up he realised River was watching him with those dreadful sad eyes again. It only took a second for him to work out why – he spent too long staring at their hands. She knew how unfamiliar this was to him.

He wanted to slap himself. No matter how hard he tried to be rid of that look, he always did something to cause its return. He supposed he would just have to work extra hard to keep it away.

“On second thought, paintball.”

River’s brows rose, questioning. “You really think your aim is better than mine?”

“It’s not about aim it’s about tactics.” He tapped her on the nose and her smile widened, all traces of the sorrow previously present erased from her features. The Doctor much preferred this expression.

“I’m pretty good at those too.”

“I, Miss Song, shall be the judge of that.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she teased, lifting her free arm and swinging the machete at the vines.


End file.
